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It was a sweet day here in England yesterday, sunny and mild. I took a little stroll through the village in the mid-afternoon. As I rounded a bend that opened into the main road, I saw something that made me stop in my tracks.
Now, I know people in this country can be, um, shall we say, a tad…(ahem)…eccentric…which is why many of my Canadian friends said I’d fit right in when I moved here…but seriously…what I saw yesterday was a little over the top, even by my standards.
Anyway, I rounded the bend and there was an older gent sitting in the middle of the road. He was surrounded by several jars of peanut butter, some of which were empty as he was spreading the stuff liberally on the pavement.
I watched in a cocktail of confusion and amazement (with a splash of WTF, just to spice things up a little).
Finally, I couldn’t contain myself. I had to ask.
“Uh, excuse me, sir…” I began rather hesitantly.
Mr Peanut Butter looked up from his…uh…work? Squinting into the sun behind me, he shaded his eyes with his hand. “Hello, Love.” Actually, it sounded more like, “Hello, Loov,” with his particular accent.
“I was just wondering…uh…well, I’ve never seen anyone spread peanut butter on the road before and I was just curious…”
I didn’t quite know how to ask What the hell are you doing? Are you completely mad? without it actually sounding like that.
And I gave myself a stern talking-to about who the hell am I to think I should judge whether or not this is weird?
Bending his head and returning to his work, he said, “It’ll be rush hour soon.”